Love at the Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot Page 0,110

quick wander. I’ve brought Merwyn along for company and a leg stretch. I admit that the Milla who arrived in the winter avoided exercise like a hole in the head, but over the last few weeks I’ve found that after a morning at my laptop, a stomp along the beach and a blast of sea air helps to clear my brain.

And I know that when I first looked down on the beach four months ago the vast stretch of wintery ocean made me shudder. But now I find I’m hurrying down the alley short-cuts, skipping down the cobbled steps, anticipating the sense of release I get when I reach the sand that stretches around the bay as far as I can see. I’m looking forward to the frills of tide rushing towards me. Hurrying to check how big the waves are, listening for the sound of them breaking on the shore before I see them. And then there’s the colour of the sea, which constantly changes with the light as the clouds scud across the sky. I can leave the shop courtyard looking out over turquoise shimmer, yet if the sun goes behind a cloud, it can be iron grey by the time I arrive. It’s funny to think that in all those years growing up I never noticed a time the sea was ever pale blue with navy patches.

Back then I loved the beach because it meant days out and picnics. Dayglow jelly shoes, and plastic buckets filled with treasures. It meant wonders like sea anemones in the rock pools and crabs washed up on the shoreline. But now it’s as if the roar of the water and the wind snagging at my hair, the soaring seagulls and the red and blue fishing boats, the white and grey cottages stacked up on the hillside, are all a part of my being. It’s as if by coming back as a proper adult I’ve finally woken up to how much I always loved them. How much they belong to me and I belong to them.

And today I’m loving it all the more because when you’re with Merwyn it’s impossible not to have a good time. His latest obsession is his Donald Trump rag doll which he turned up with after a frantic dig in the sand dunes last week and won’t let out of his sight. As he drops it at my feet for the fiftieth time I shake off the sand and seaweed and fling it back into the shallows for him. ‘Quick, Merwyn, we don’t want Donald to get washed out to sea.’ I jump as I hear a laugh behind me.

‘Not everyone would agree with that, Milla Vanilla.’

I’m sounding grumpy to cover up that my stomach just dropped so far down it’s probably in my new-to-me super-practical Converse trainers. ‘Do you enjoy creeping up on people?’

Nic rubs the stubble on his chin. ‘I haven’t had much chance lately. Apart from our meetings, I’ve been busy in the office down the coast.’

I stare at him and wonder how he always manages to make me flustered and hot, even when there’s a stiff breeze. It’s even worse since I had that ridiculous moving-on moment. ‘I thought you drove boats?’

‘Sometimes there are loose ends on land that need tying up too.’ He smiles. ‘I see you’ve finally got the hang of beach walking?’

I shrug. ‘It’s great for clearing my head.’ My life never felt quite so broken when I looked at it from the shoreline. And that aching, gaping hole in my chest that was here in February has gone now. ‘You know, since I decided to let go of the past, I’ve actually had a final revelation.’ At one time Nic would have been the last person I’d have shared it with, but lately he seems to understand so well. And this one’s a biggie.

‘If there are any ghosts left to lay, I’m always happy to listen.’

I blow out a breath because I feel so guilty. ‘I’ve realised I wasn’t actually ever in love with Ben.’ Out loud it sounds even worse than it was in my head. ‘I grabbed him because he was there and I needed a comfort blanket to help me through.’ It’s funny to think that at the time I assumed finding someone house-trained and okay-looking was all that being suited as a couple was about.

If I’d got out and about more as a teenager, I’d have had more kisses to compare. If I’d had a